Posts Tagged ‘conversation’

In the flesh… Kim Reisman

Thursday, January 5th, 2012 | By Kim Reisman
Filed in: Kimberly Reisman, What's Your Next Step?

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Kimberly Reisman

Kim Reisman

What’s Your Next Step?

In the flesh…

An intriguing commonality between those who follow the Jesus way and non believers is a general distaste for evangelism. Certainly this dislike doesn’t apply to everyone, believer or not; nor does it stem from an accurate understanding of what evangelism is all about. But the dislike is there. From the world’s perspective it’s an aversion to anything smacking of targeting, any attempt to “convert,” alter, or change another person in the area of faith. From the Christ follower’s perspective it’s a deep embarrassment about sharing something as profoundly personal as the experience of being in relationship with God through Jesus; it’s a strong fear of being seen as manipulative, coercive or simply overbearing. The negative image of the televangelist looms large in all our consciences. Mary Chapin Carpenter sings about this sense of leeriness in her song I Take My Chances from the CD Come On Come On:

 

Mary Chapin Carpenter

Mary Chapin Carpenter

I sat alone in the dark one night, tuning in by remote.

I found a preacher who spoke of the lightbut there was brimstone in his throat.

He’d show me the way according to him in return for my personal check.

I clicked my channel back to CNN and I lit another cigarette.

I take my chances…yes…forgiveness doesn’t come with a debt.

 

Yet those who follow the Jesus way actually have great news to share – the truth (to mention only one) that forgiveness really doesn’t come with a debt! And that news, when shared as it should be, is not the least bit coercive or manipulative. But our dislike for faith sharing is so great, our fear of being lumped in the same category as the preacher who speaks of the light but has brimstone in his throat is so paralyzing, that Christ followers have abdicated the witness of our faith to others, seeing it as something that happens at special times, in special places, led by special people with special gifts.

How sad that sharing the good news, news the world so desperately needs to hear, has been limited to such special (and seemingly rare) environments, when instead it could be a natural part of the relationships of trust that make up our daily lives. How sad that we’ve missed the foundational concept of faith sharing – that it is incarnational.

As Christ followers, our relationship is with an incarnational God – a God who came to us in the flesh, willingly choosing to become human in Jesus. That’s not just part of the message we proclaim, it’s the model for the way we live in the world and the way we share our faith. When we come to see following the Jesus way and sharing our faith in that way – as an incarnational undertaking – we realize the importance of entering the world of those we seek to reach – being with them in the flesh, not just on the surface. As the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, entering our world fully and completely, we seek to be vehicles through which Jesus enters the worlds of those around us – our co-workers and friends, our neighbors, strangers we meet as we go about our day.

Incarnational thinking broadens our understanding of what it means to share our faith, moving it beyond special events and attractions toward a more holistic concept, one that emphasizes entering the worlds of others fully and completely, through word, deed and sign. Our entire existence as Christ followers – the connections we make between our faith and our daily lives, the way we live in the world – should be laid on the holistic framework of word, deed and sign. A deep and lively faith will always hold these three elements in balance.

As we live each day, we proclaim the good news – both formally and informally – in our conversation, in our expression. This is the framework of word. The world hears our words, the words of every Christ follower, not just those of our preachers and teachers. All those beside whom we live and work and play hear and listen. When we struggle, they hear our struggle. When we celebrate, they hear our celebration. When we enter their struggle – in the flesh, not just on the surface – they hear those words as well. When we share their celebration – in the flesh, not just on the surface – their joy is enhanced by the sound of ours. For every divisive word spoken by a Pat Robertson or Jerry Falwell, the world waits to hear a word from us – what will our word be? A word of confirmation or a word of the gospel?

As we live each day we proclaim the good news and we act – practicing what we preach and preaching what we practice. In this way word and deed come together. They are as intimately entwined as breathing in and breathing out, deciding which is the most important depends on which one you did last. As the world hears our words, the world watches our actions. The world watches as we live out our faith – in the flesh, not in theory – even in the most mundane elements of our lives. The world watches the way we treat or mistreat others, the way we reach out or ignore those who suffer, stand with or against those who are oppressed, work for or against reconciliation, trust and love. What will our next step be? Will our actions reflect our words?  Will our words ring true when illustrated in the flesh, by our behavior?

As we live each day we proclaim the good news, we act in ways that provide evidence for that good news, and we engage in activities of significance that point to Jesus Christ. This is the framework of sign. We participate in and provide opportunities for those around us to experience signs of our living God, those visible tokens of invisible realities that are spiritually significant – Eucharist, prayer, art, music, miracles, healings – any and all pointing to Jesus Christ and his redemptive power.

Word, deed and sign. In the flesh, not just in theory or on the surface. That’s the only way to follow in the Jesus way with integrity and faithfulness. That’s the only way to avoid the world’s image of Christians as those who speak of the light but have brimstone in their throat. So what is your next step? What will you do next? Word? Deed? Breathe in? Breathe out? I suppose it depends on whatever you did last.

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What’s Your Next Step? Translation & Immersion – Kim Reisman

Friday, March 18th, 2011 | By Kim Reisman
Filed in: Kimberly Reisman, What's Your Next Step?

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I really enjoyed Jason Vickers recent blog on emerging worship. He’s on target to remind us how rich & deep & wide our history of worship actually is. And reinforcing the role of the Holy Spirit was particularly important.

Translation...

The whole conversation brought some additional thoughts to my mind. I was reminded that while this kind of conversation is often about our understanding of worship, frequently there is also an underlying theme of translation. How is it that we make this good news known? How do we translate this news that is at one & the same time something that inspires silent awe, joyful praise, tearful repentance, ecstatic utterances or quiet prayer? How do we provide the channel for the Holy Spirit to work to make this deeply mysterious yet magnificently understandable news real for each successive generation?

 

Nothing new about these questions. And just as you can see the trajectory that has cut through the more recent history of worship (let’s make the music more like what people hear outside of church so they’ll be able to relate better – let’s be careful about our language in worship or else people won’t be able to understand what we’re talking about) – you can see it in this arena as well. From the beginning the Jesus movement was a movement of translation as the Good News spread from its first century Jewish roots to Greek towns & cities & on. The idea of faith seeking understanding has driven theologians of every age to wrestle with how to explain the mysteries of the Jesus way. In the process we’ve erred on both sides – we’ve so watered down our truths for the sake being understood that they’ve become only shadow representations. Conversely we’ve held our truths so closely that no one has been able to catch a glimpse of their beauty.

 

What I wonder is whether there’s a space in the middle somewhere.

 

Immersion

I’ve never been very good at foreign languages. But many of my friends speak multiple languages – a fact that makes me very envious (a small Lenten confession). What these friends tell me is that to learn any new language, it’s important to have translation resources (e.g. church = iglesia in Spanish; liturgy = the word Christians use to refer to their services & rites, the arrangement & form). You can’t learn a new language without that element. But it’s also important to be immersed in that language – to be surrounded by it so that you hear it all the time. In fact many people say that translation alone isn’t enough to become fluent in another language. Just having the language verbally explained isn’t enough for the language to become your own. In a very real sense, you have to live the language in order to make it yours.

How much more might this be the case for following in the Jesus way? We might come to know that liturgy refers to the arrangement & form of the services & rites of the Christian church, but will simply knowing that make the liturgy real for us? Generations of preachers have sought to make God’s grace known in sermon after sermon, but how much more would those descriptive words come to life if the deepest meaning of God’s grace were made known through lived relationships of love & compassion? If translation & immersion go together, then those whom we wish to reach with the Good News of Jesus Christ must not only hear us speak of it, but also become immersed in it through our relationships and through the life of the Christ following community. The language of God is not only verbal, it is not only written, it is lived. When we become immersed in the language of God, reading it, speaking it, living it, we are able to make it our own. When through our relationships, through our communities of faith, through our daily living, we enable others to become immersed in the language of God – to hear it spoken, to see it lived, to feel it within – that is when the Holy Spirit is given room to move & work & that is when others are able to make the language of God their own.

 

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The View From Here: On Emerging Worship – Jason Vickers

Tuesday, March 15th, 2011 | By Jason Vickers
Filed in: Jason Vickers, The View from Here

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Jason Vickers

The most frequent question I get from seminary students these days goes something like this: what is emerging worship, and why are so many folks making such a fuss over it? Like so many other movements in theology or worship, emerging worship can be a little difficult to define.  Indeed, what counts as emerging worship can vary from place to place. So in what follows, I don’t so much want to define emerging worship as to make some general observations about what gave rise to it and about the ways in which some people are reacting to it. Insofar as people’s negative reaction has to do with the media or forms used in emerging worship, I want to issue a reminder: we Christians have used an amazing diversity of media and forms to worship our God across the centuries. In other words, I think it is important to locate our conversations about emerging worship against the long horizon that is the history of Christian worship.

 

One way to think about emerging worship is to see it as a response to two of the chief criticisms of contemporary worship. First, critics of contemporary worship often argue that contemporary worship is theologically shallow. Second, critics of contemporary worship often observe that the use of digital media and technology in contemporary worship means that there are few discernible differences between the church’s worship and life outside of worship. For example, the music in worship is not discernibly different than secular music. Similarly, the power point presentation accompanying the service resembles the power point presentations taking place in the corporate boardrooms in which so many people are stuck during the week.

 

In response to these criticisms, architects of emerging worship are seeking to recover more traditional theological language and to create a worship ethos that is noticeably different from secular concerts and corporate boardrooms. Thus, while they still encourage casual dress, they are dialing back on the use of technology, and they are replacing high voltage spotlights with the dim light of candles. They are also developing more theologically sophisticated music, and they are working to recover lost liturgical practices from the ancient church, including the liturgical calendar, confession of the ancient creeds, prayers of repentance, the stations of the cross, and the like. Many emerging churches are emphasizing natural symbols and images over all things digital. They are using wood panel icons, a common wood or clay cup for communion, and ashes to make the sign of the cross on their foreheads during Ash Wednesday services.

 

The backlash against emerging worship is hardly surprising. In the turn to symbols, to “ritual,” and to ancient liturgical practices, many people see a turn to something else altogether, namely, Roman Catholicism or Eastern Orthodoxy. In other words, they see an abandoning of what they regard as classical Protestantism. Others see in the dim, candle-lit worship spaces something sinister and evil, a kind of dark or “new age” spirituality. They are sure that the emerging church is actually the undoing of the church, the proverbial last nail in the Western church’s coffin.

 

We need to notice what is happening here. We are spending a great deal of energy these days worrying about the forms and media of worship. We are wrestling with whether one type of music is more appropriate than another for worship. We are debating the merits of liturgical dance. We aren’t sure what to do if our church substitutes candle light for electricity. We are questioning whether Protestants can make use of iconography without giving way to idolatry. And on and on it goes.

 

In the midst of all our anxiety, we need to stand back and recall that we Christians have been worshipping our God for a very, very long time. Across the centuries and throughout the world, we have employed an amazing diversity of forms and media in our worship. We have employed every musical instrument imaginable, from organs and pianos, to harps, bagpipes, drums, and a variety of horns and stringed instruments. We have used an astonishing array of music styles, ranging from chant to drumming, classical music, hymns, southern gospel, black gospel, and hip-hop. We have used an amazing variety of sacred art, including sculpture, wood panel paintings, frescoes, and kitsch. We have worshipped our God in bright, sun-lit sanctuaries and in mysterious, dark spaces. We have celebrated and praised our God in everything from caves to cathedrals. We have worshipped our God at midnight and in the wee hours of the morning. We have used the lectionary, and we have preached extemporaneously. We have worn every conceivable kind of clothing, and we have stripped naked for our baptism.

 

In the light of the history of Christian worship, we need to make a very simple decision. We need to decide whether we are going to operate with a miserly or a generous Pneumatology. Like prayer, all true worship originates with the Holy Spirit. Thus we must decide whether we really want to confine the work of the Holy Spirit to favored liturgical forms and media or whether we are going to confess together that the Holy Spirit is free to work or not to work, to speak or not to speak, to be present or not to be present regardless of the forms or media that we choose to employ. We must decide whether we really want to confine the Spirit to hymns, or whether we will be open to the presence and work of the Spirit through gospel songs, praise choruses, or Byzantine chant. We must decide whether we really want to claim that the Holy Spirit is afraid of the dark, or whether we will be open to the moving of the Holy Spirit in dimly lit worship spaces.

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What’s Your Next Step? On Bridges & Barriers: Revisited – Kim Reisman

Monday, March 7th, 2011 | By Kim Reisman
Filed in: Kimberly Reisman, What's Your Next Step?

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I’m nearing the end of a LONG process of doctoral study. If all goes well, I’ll be submitting my thesis (dissertation in American lingo) by late fall. Cross your fingers, say a prayer, light a candle…

The roots of my dissertation can be seen in a little blog I wrote back when Next Step first got off the ground. At the time I was reading a little book of essays I received from my husband John called, A Writer’s Paris: a Guided Journey for the Creative Soul by Eric Maisel. There’s a particularly meaningful section in which he talks about the footbridges of Paris. Bridges in Paris aren’t miles long & clogged with traffic, although there are some that are purely functional – all steel and cement. Most of them, however, are short & sweet, inviting a lingering stroll with a relaxed stop to watch the world go by. Many have been there for hundreds of years, evolving from footbridges, to heavily trafficked pathways & back to pedestrian walkways.

Looking back, I believe this little essay by Maisel crystallized my thinking about evangelism & faith sharing – a fact that I’m sure would completely surprise him. It started me thinking about bridges – they’re fascinating things. I remember seeing the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, for the first time.  What an awesome construction! And the Brooklyn Bridge in New York, with all its lights. The awesomeness of these bridges reminded me of the awesomeness of the task of sharing the good news of Jesus Christ with others. The gulf we need to cross can seem so great – a huge gap between our experience of the love & acceptance we receive in Jesus Christ & the experience of suspicion & rejection we often experience in the world.

Pont Saint Louis

But then I returned to Maisel’s words about the bridges of Paris & that was when it seemed to fall together for me somehow because he taught me something about scale. Speaking of writers he says, “You want to show a war, but you must show a battle instead. You want to prove the greatness of a great love, but you can’t do it through hyperbole – you can only do it by a careful noticing of the way your lovers hold hands.” He goes on to recount a time when he found himself on the Pont Saint Louis near a thirty year old man & his sixty year old mother. The son was pouring out his heart to his mother. After describing their conversation, Maisel says, “The setting has allowed him to speak. This conversation never could have occurred in their living room, at the supermarket, or at the Louvre. This bridge creates a place safe enough for a boy to speak to his mother.”

Maisel is right.  It’s not about the awesomeness of the bridges. It’s about the intimacy. It’s about the way the footbridge subtly draws you to the middle to stop & absorb what’s going on around you, to see how the water flows, how the streets lead to & from, how the buildings grow up & out. In reading Maisel, I realized the direction I needed to go with my own work & writing. I realized that we don’t make connections between our experience of being in relationship with Jesus Christ & the experience of the rest of the world through massive efforts & structures.  I realized that it’s about the intimacy of crossing a footbridge to meet another in the middle. It’s not about creating grand strategies & programs – it’s about making connections of love & trust in the individual relationships we encounter in our daily lives. It’s not about proving the great love God has shown in Jesus Christ through hyperbole, but by noticing the way Jesus comes to us as a lover – holding our hand, easing our fears, forgiving our faults & shortcomings – loving us anyway. And more than anything else, it’s about creating places like the bridge where the son was able to talk with his mother, places that are safe enough for us to talk about our faith, the meaning that it has brought to our lives, the difference Jesus Christ has made in our experience of the world.

The questions are as real now as they were back when I wrote that original little blog. What bridges are we able to create in our lives? What next step do we need to take to create places that are safe enough for us to talk about the deep things of our heart? What person in your life is quietly awaiting an opportunity to meet you in the middle of a bridge, to make a connection, to deepen a relationship, to hear or speak a word of faith & hope & love?

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